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by scrapheap (oogenesis)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Pre-Slash, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oogenesis/pseuds/scrapheap
Summary: “You do this a lot?” said Bumblebee.  “I mean, at your desk?”“Of course,” said Starscream.  “Where else?”
Relationships: Bumblebee/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53





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**Author's Note:**

> wrote this in one go at 1-2 am woooooooooo sorry if it's bad
> 
> i haven't finished exrid so i don't really know the technical specifics of bumblebee's whole ghost-but-not-really situation i kind of made some shit up

The next time Bumblebee blinked into existence or some facsimile thereof in Starscream’s office, it was to find Starscream sitting at his desk, head tilted back against the seat, eyes closed and legs spread open as he fingered himself.

“ _Uh,_ ” said Bumblebee desperately. It was late; there were stars visible outside the vast mirrored window. A precarious stack of datapads perched on one side of the desk. Starscream opened his eyes at the noise and looked with some indifference at Bumblebee. “Oh, it’s you,” he said. “You couldn’t have picked a better time?”

“I don’t control it,” said Bumblebee, feeling all kinds of upended. The seat was pushed back from the desk, so Bumblebee had a very clear view of the two gunmetal gray fingers disappearing into an equally dark port, slick with lubricant. Starscream’s privates on full display was not a sight Bumblebee had ever thought he’d see in his lifetime, or in whatever he was currently inhabiting.

Starscream nodded as if that made sense, then closed his eyes, tipped his head back again, and went back to business.

“I’m still here,” said Bumblebee, pointedly, and not a bit bewildered.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Starscream, flicking one wing in a flier’s version of a shrug. “You’re a figment of my imagination anyway.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not,” said Bumblebee emphatically. It wasn’t normally a point he cared to clarify—he had the feeling Starscream was more inclined to listen to advice when he thought it came from some deep-buried part of his own mind, typical egotist—but in the current context seemed to be a vital distinction for Starscream to be made aware of.

Starscream appeared to give actual thought to this, opening his eyes a crack. “Huh,” he said, then, “well, you can leave if you want to,” and kept going.

“Wow,” said Bumblebee, a little sarcastic, and still bewildered. 

“Don’t _judge_ ,” said Starscream testily, still fingering himself with quick businesslike motions of his wrist, “I’ve been in meetings all day and it’s not even over yet, I have to meet with the representative of the Greater Non-Aligned Coalition in less than ten minutes, and if I don’t do _something_ to take the edge off I’ll end up biting off someone’s wing before the meeting is over and that would be a PR nightmare. If you’ve ever been in that situation, then by all means— _nnn_ —”

Bumblebee perched his insubstantial form on the desk. He wasn’t sure if he _could_ leave, actually—the signal broadcasting his consciousness seemed to be anchored on Starscream’s personal frequency—but despite the frankly bizarre circumstances he wasn’t yet feeling a pressing need to test that. There was an odd curiosity keeping him in place; he cast an eye over the various documents and datapads littering the desk while Starscream’s vents panted softly. “How often do you leave this room?” he asked.

“Plenty,” said Starscream, with the accompaniment of slick wet noises. “There are lots of other meeting rooms.”

“I mean,” said Bumblebee, “how often do you get downtime.”

“Ha,” said Starscream, and his vocalizer crackled in a little gasp. “Good question.”

“You do this a lot?” said Bumblebee. “I mean, at your desk?”

“Of course,” said Starscream. “Where else?”

Bumblebee left it at that. He left off reading the documents on the desk, wandered around the room a little—still and brightly lit against the darkness of the sky outside—then came back to the desk and gave up trying to ignore the wet sounds of Starscream touching himself, finally looking back at him head-on. Eyes closed, body arced with a bit of strain, fingers plunging in and out of his slick port. It wasn’t a bad look on him, really. Bumblebee was a little thankful he didn’t have a physical body to react to the sight, because that would have made things way more complicated than he felt he could handle right now, but that didn’t stop his eyes from appreciating.

He looked good. Bumblebee had noticed, in his various apparitions, that Starscream was starting to invest more and more in his appearance, almost obsessively. No, definitely obsessively, like some kind of coping mechanism. His thighs glistened with pearlescent finish as he spread them a little wider, hips sliding forward on the chair as he fucked forward onto his fingers.

It was getting awkward. Bumblebee went back to looking at the documents on the desk until Starscream said, “Talk to me.”

Bumblebee looked back at him. His eyes were still closed. “Uh,” said Bumblebee, “you mean like, dirty talk?”

Because _that_ was a whole can of microchips he was _not_ about to open right now. Starscream only flicked his wings again. “No,” he said, voice strained and tight with pleasure. “just talk. Anything. It's nice to know I'm not doing this alone for once.”

You could just open your eyes, thought Bumblebee ruefully, but he kind of understood. There was something grounding about a voice that a silent vision just didn’t accomplish. “Uh,” he said again. “Nice, um. Nice finish.”

Starscream preened, and then moaned. It was an odd combination. "Thanks,” he said, smug and breathless. “Exclusive—ah—exclusive diamond crystallization. Cost 50,000 shanix.”

“I’m pretty sure you should be putting Cybertron’s budget to better use than that,” said Bumblebee, watching little droplets of lubricant land on the chair between Starscream’s thighs from the vigorousness of his efforts.

Starscream didn’t bother responding. The vents on top of his head were scraping along the headrest of his chair where his head was thrown back. His wings were vibrating with tension; Bumblebee reached out and ran a finger across the top edge of one of them, feeling it warm and thrumming under his fingertip. Starscream didn’t appear to notice, of course. Bumblebee was intangible.

“Who’ve you done this with, before?” was what came to his mouth. He corrected himself. “Not, uh, not the jacking off while they watch. Just, you know.”

“Fucking,” said Starscream, amused, and Bumblebee twitched. If he ever got his body back, the memory of Starscream saying _that_ in _that_ kind of voice was going to take up unwelcome residence in certain parts of his anatomy. “Mmm, oh, Thundercracker and Skywarp, you know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Haha, ahh, yeah, well. A few other names you wouldn’t know.” Starscream cracked an eye open at Bumblebee, almost gleefully. “And Wheeljack.”

Bumblebee nearly hit the ceiling. “ _Wheeljack?!_ ” he half yelled. Of course, that was what Starscream had been looking gleeful about. “You—what— _our_ Wheeljack? Since when?!”

“Since last month,” said Starscream, grinning hazy and smug, still pumping away. “Just a couple times. Not—ahh—not the best I’ve ever had, but. Times like these, it’s nice.” He let out a long quiet moan. “Now shut up, I’m at the part I need to concentrate.”

Bumblebee could do that. He was still processing Wheeljack. He watched as Starscream fingered himself in quick tight motions, exhaust panting higher and higher and intermittent moans escaping his mouth, until a forceful ripple went through his whole body and his eyes and mouth opened wide, head straining backwards. “Ah,” he said as he shook in place, thighs and wings trembling. “Ah— _ah_ —” Then it ebbed, and he crumbled slowly back into his chair, his mouth and limbs slack, cooling fans loud in the stillness.

“Damn,” said Bumblebee wistfully. “Wish I could still do that.”

“Yeah,” breathed Starscream in response to nothing in particular, painstakingly sitting up and scooting his chair forward. With his clean hand he pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a cleaning rag, wiping his sticky hand off on it.

“You just keep that in there?” said Bumblebee.

“Obviously,” said Starscream, wiping down his thighs and the spot on his chair. “What else would I do?”

Bumblebee didn’t really know. He watched Starscream meticulously wipe through all the crevices in his pelvic armor, then stow the rag back in its drawer and go back to his paperwork, soundly ignoring Bumblebee; occasionally muttering to himself as he signed this paper or swiped onto that page. 

Exactly one minute and a half after Bumblebee watched Starscream come, the door opened and Rattrap poked his head in. Bumblebee instinctively scrambled as though to hide; he knew no one aside from Starscream could see him, and normally he regarded the comings and goings of those oblivious to his presence with a kind of tiredly amused apathy, but something about the recent proceedings had left him unsettled. He felt as if Rattrap had just walked in on the two of them draped suggestively over each other, which was not the kind of thing one wanted Rattrap privy to in the best of circumstances. “Boss,” said Rattrap. “The NAIL representative guy is here to see you.”

“We aren’t supposed to call them that, remember?” tsked Starscream, interlocking his hands and stretching. “All right, bring him in.”

The representative appeared in the doorframe, a heavyset bot Bumblebee didn’t recognize. Starscream sauntered forward to greet him, wearing a carefree and in-command smirk that looked completely artificial to Bumblebee but probably looked pretty genuine to anyone that hadn’t just witnessed him pulling it on like a mask. There was just the faintest wobble to his legs as he walked, but only Bumblebee was likely to notice it. It made him feel oddly smug, like he knew a secret, but he felt too tired to really relish it. Starscream was tired too, he knew. They all were.

**Author's Note:**

> the end woooooo and with that i go to bed. if you liked it then please leave a comment telling me what you liked best, it would mean a lot to me!


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